She Let Herself In
by mostlytvstuff
Summary: Recognizing, even in his groggy state, that Mindy Lahiri has never been so quiet in her life, Danny opened his eyes all the way, blinking and frowning out the remnants his afternoon snooze. He immediately saw the tears. It looked like they were coming from everywhere. It was like every pore on her face was weeping.


She let herself in using the key he had given her. She still couldn't believe he had crossed that line. She figured they would have to be married with three girls working at the mall (or owning the mall) before he would cross that boundary – allowing her into his space when he wasn't there felt like the most intimate they had ever been.

She was just returning the detergent she had borrowed. There were many advantages to living in Danny's spare apartment just down the hall from him. It was very convenient for all of her missing necessities. She also stole toilet paper when she ran out of Chinese carry-out napkins. And she would have stolen dish washing supplies, but instead she generally opted to steal his freshly-cooked meals and the company that came along with them.

She wandered through his apartment after putting the detergent back in its place. Everything in his apartment had a place, carefully selected for efficiency or convenience or something. She was never sure about why he selected things. Why he selected her. And then unselected her.

She peaked through his bedroom door and immediately froze at the sight before her. He was napping on the bed, on top of the blankets, fully-clothed except shoes. He hated shoes on his bed. He was maniacal about it. He was maniacal about so many things. But not her.

The temptation to examine him more closely while he slept was overwhelming, so she removed her shoes and carefully tip-toed into the room. He was on his side, facing the middle of the bed, and she crouched down low enough to look at his face. He was so peaceful and so handsome, even in his sleep. He had a little 5-o'clock shadow, which was amusing since it was barely 3:00 in the afternoon. But of course, Danny Castellano was manly enough to grow a beard before sundown. He probably just looked in the mirror and willed his facial hair to grow.

His room was so masculine and so him. It was quiet and calming, not like her bedroom, which was wild and playful and full of secret knives and mirrors and stuffed animals. Although, he did have Mr. Neck. It was the only thing she could think of that they really had in common.

She was hit with the sudden urge to wrap herself in his calmness – to envelop her unhinged self in the placid strength of him. So she gently lied down next to him. She was certain he would awaken, but she didn't care. What more could he do to her?

What more could he do to her besides kiss her on the back of a plane, force her to break up with her boyfriend and then immediately leave her so that he could keep her, or something. Suddenly, it occurred to her – why wasn't she angry with him? Why was she letting him come so close to her life again? Helping her with apartments, inviting her to stay in his spare real estate, giving her keys – it was all so familiar and so different, and she wasn't sure why she was allowing it.

She gazed more closely at his face as he slept, and she thought she should feel like a total creeper. But she didn't. She felt strangely at home. It was like when she lied down next to him, all the stressful things in the rest of the world seemed to fade in the background. They didn't disappear altogether, mind you. She still knew she had no place to live. And she still knew she was heartbroken. But the weight of those things seemed to abate.

She allowed her own eyelids to fall heavily. Saturday afternoons in the spring were such a nice time for naps. And she felt so relaxed in his ordered home. But just before she felt the pull of sleep, an unexpected sadness took over her. And she started to cry.

It wasn't a sob – it was just tears slowly trickling out of her eyes and falling across her nose, onto Danny's bed. She realized she couldn't have him anymore, at least not the way she wanted him. She realized that even though he had given her his key and his spare condo, he didn't want to be with her. And even though she usually processed sadness in a whirl of dramatic exits and bed flops and face-covered sobbing, when she was lying with him in his quiet room, her sadness started to overtake her in the least dramatic way possible.

She let the tears continue to fall. There was nothing she could do. She had already told Peter that she knew she wasn't good enough for Danny. And he hadn't disagreed. But it wasn't really about being good enough or not good enough – it was about the way he complemented her and balanced her craziness with his old man sturdiness. She felt like they were a perfect fit, which she had never expected until they were molded together on the back of an airplane.

Suddenly, his eyes opened. She froze, waiting for him to freak out like any person who fell asleep alone and woke up staring into someone's eyes. But he didn't. His eyes fluttered a little, and they were only partially open when he said, "Min?"

She knew if she attempted to form words, her silent tears would turn into sobs. So she just said, "Hmm?"

Recognizing, even in his groggy state, that Mindy Lahiri has never been so quiet in her life, Danny opened his eyes all the way, blinking and frowning out the remnants his afternoon snooze. He immediately saw the tears. It looked like they were coming from everywhere. It was like every pore on her face was weeping.

He sat up a little and touched her shoulder. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't respond. She couldn't move. She could only shake her head. He grabbed her shoulder more strongly, trying to pull her body so that he could search for injuries.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head again.

"Did something happen?"

He was sounding increasingly desperate. And then he noticed her bare feet. And he remembered all the times he had to remind her not to bring shoes in his bed. He also remembered all the times she "forgot" or "didn't realize she was wearing them," or whatever bizarre, random story she concocted to explain why she was ruining his clean, shoeless bed.

And he realized she had come into his room on purpose. She had been thoughtful enough to remove her shoes. She had been quiet enough to lay next him without waking him up. And he realized that whatever was wrong with her was caused by him. And he wanted to fall back asleep and never wake up.

He reached out and gently rubbed away some of the tears on her face. He was surprised she let him. Feeling somewhat safe, he scooted a little closer. And they were face-to-face, close enough that he could rest his hand on her hip.

"I'm sorry," he said and choked a little on his own emotions.

He gently rubbed her hip bone with his thumb. It was just a slight motion, but it seemed to calm her a bit. She still said nothing, and he had never been so concerned about her.

"Listen. I'm really sorry, okay." Silence.

"I'm sorry I did all of this." Nothing.

"I'm sorry I brought you into all…" He waved his hand in the air, "this." Still nothing.

"You're so sure of everything, Mindy. You're always so sure. You just go. You just jump in and move forward, and for a minute, on the back of the plane, I thought maybe I could move forward too. Maybe I could just go."

No response.

"But I can't. I can't do that. I'm not like you. I'm not bold. I'm not…" he just looked away. She still said nothing.

"I thought about Christina. I know I shouldn't have been thinking about her. But I was. I thought about how we got married and divorced and back together… That wasn't a good experience. I don't want to do that again.

"And I know you're not her. You're nothing like her, actually. But I'm still me. And I was half of that relationship.

"I don't want to be the guy who keeps fucking up. I don't want to be the guy who's always going through break-ups. And you are always going through break-ups."

He stopped to think about it for a minute. All of Mindy's exes started running through his head. He hated them all. He hated them for hurting her. But more than that, he hated them because none of them could see her. None of them even bothered to really see her. None of them could appreciate how cute she was tangled in her ear buds and scarf. None of them could appreciate her extensive stories about following her daughter to college and being the hot mom. None of them could appreciate her elaborate workout fantasies. He smiled a little to himself thinking about her. He always smiled when he thought about her.

"You're always going through break-ups because you're always dating the wrong guys. Why do you do that?" He looked directly at her. She said nothing. "The guys you date are always dicks. Casey said rude things about your body. And I know you liked Cliff. But breaking up with you after one moment of insecurity…"

He rolled over on his back and stared at the ceiling for several minutes. Even Danny was astute enough to see the parallels between all of Mindy's exes, including him. He realized that he was one of the dicks, and he stayed silent for a long time. He ran through their whole relationship in his mind. He remembered every single mean thing he had ever said to her. He remembered the time he told her she could lose 15 pounds, and he started to feel hot. By the time he got to "I didn't ask to be your friend," he thought he must be as sweaty as she was teary.

Then he remembered her face when he left her. And suddenly, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and very quietly whispered, "I love you."

He thought Mindy had fallen asleep, but she came to life at that moment. She popped up from her sleeping position and threw herself against his shoulder. It reminded him of the time they had watched a scary movie in his bed, and she launched herself at him in fear. That time, he tried so hard to pry her arms loose. But this time, he welcomed her into his space. He smiled a little, noting her child-like excitement and wrapped his arms around her. His shirt was immediately damp from her tears, and she buried her face in the space between his shoulder and collar bone. He could hear a muffled, "I love you too."

She started kissing him furiously. They were sweet, innocent kisses planted all over his face and neck, but they mingled with her tears, and it made the whole thing feel like he was being lovingly attacked by a poodle. He tried to hold her at bay, so that he could sit up and regain some control over the situation. Eventually, he succeeded, and he pulled her away so that he could look at her.

She was smiling. It was a bright, happy, Mindy smile. And he could do nothing but smile back. He kissed her for real then. He held her face, and she crawled onto his lap, straddling his hips. He reached around to grab her ass, like he always did, and pulled her closer against him. He just squeezed her tighter and tighter, and it felt like he couldn't get close enough.

Eventually, she pulled back from him. "Wait, Danny. What does this mean? What are we doing?"

He was slightly disoriented, his lips swollen and rosy from mingling with hers. "Right now, we're kissing."

She almost started kissing him again, the pull of his pony lashes and scrumptious lips was overwhelming. But his words echoed in her mind – "you're always going through break-ups."

"Is this going to be another break up? Why are you doing this?"

He smiled softly at her then. "No. I'm not going to break up with you again. And YOU kissed ME this time. I didn't do anything." He smiled a half smile. But it quickly faded, and he looked at her very seriously. "I love you."

She looked at him thoughtfully with the same expression he had seen when he counted to three on the back of the plane. She looked in his eyes like she was searching for something. And he let her search. They stayed like that for a long time, just looking at each other, as if they could see the future. And then she quietly said, "Four."

_There are so many ways these characters could find their way back to each other. I want to cover them all!_

_As always, stalk me on Tumblr mostlytvstuff._


End file.
